


Tony's Letters to Gibbs

by Ytteb



Series: Letters [2]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-30
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2018-05-17 06:30:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5857936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the years Tony has come close to quitting several times and sometimes even wrote the resignation letters. What happens if Gibbs reads them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion to my story 'Letters from Tony' – you don't need to have read that to follow this one. One of the things 'revealed' in the first story was that Tony had written a number of resignation letters which had never been handed in. This new story deals with the fallout if Gibbs ever read any of those letters. Spoilers for some episodes but nothing beyond season 9.

Gibbs

You know that I've always looked up to you. Hell, I even  _like_  you – I wouldn't have hugged you otherwise when it turned out you and Ziva hadn't been blown up. Might be truer to say that I  _liked_  you, past tense.

I understand that you wanted to come back, take back the team but did you have to do it that way? Did you piss on all our desks as well, just to make sure we knew that it was your territory? I guess you probably didn't because you seem to be nicer to the janitorial crew than you are to us. Correct that, to  _me_. Maybe I'll apply to be a cleaner, see if that makes you see me as a person. Don't worry, I won't. That would mean being in the same building as you and I don't think that's a good idea. I'd quite like to carry on being a federal agent but being fired for decking my supervisor might not look good on my resumé so I'm just going to hand in my notice and leave quietly.

It's been an experience, Jethro. I'm just not sure it was a good one.

Tony

NCISNCIS

Gibbs

I always thought this would be a tough letter to write but it seems pretty simple after all.

I'll send the paperwork direct to Director Vance but I guess you deserve some explanation about why I'm giving my two weeks' notice. You'll think it's stupid but, as you've got a rule about apologies, I'm not going to apologise. You talk a lot ... no, scratch that, obviously you don't talk a  _lot_  about  _anything_ , but you make it clear that you think respect is important and that it has to be earned. So today, when you called me 'bubble-butt' in front of everyone you were either breaking one of your rules or you don't respect me.

I laughed it off at the time: it's what everyone expects me to do but I thought about it afterwards and I realised I'm tired of laughing things off, presenting my shiny happy face to the world. I looked for the twinkle in your eye in case it was a joke but your face was a twinkle free zone. You saw an opportunity to put the boot in and you took it.

I won't put 'my supervisor called me a 'bubble-butt' on the leaving form. Despite what you seem to think, I do have some self-respect. I'll put something like 'feeling the need for a new challenge' after nine years with NCIS.

I'm not ungrateful, Gibbs, you've taught me a lot but it's time to leave before you teach me that I'm useless. I've always learned your lessons but I don't want to learn this one.

Semper fi

Tony

NCISNCIS

Gibbs

I'm tempted to send you an email but I want you to read this so I'll print it out and put it on your desk. Have you got a rule we don't know about? I guess you must have and it probably runs something like, 'do as I say, not as I do'. That would explain why you went off the grid to 'rescue' Maddie – congrats on that, by the way, went well, didn't it? That would explain why you didn't work as a team.

Something I've always wanted to know, did you and Mike Franks ever have a third on your team? Because I can't imagine what it would be like to be stuck permanently between the two of you.

I'm being unfair. You did keep one of your rules, 'don't apologise'. Although I guess you don't think there was anything to say sorry for. You certainly don't seem to think there's anything to say 'thank you' for either. Not that I did it so you could be grateful. I did it because instinct kicked in. I did what needed to be done but Gibbs, you more than lived up to that second B in your name. What was so difficult about saying 'thank you, Tony'? If you didn't want to thank me for saving your life, you could have said thank you for saving Maddie's. I guess it's something to do with having to be the alpha male. Enough. I'm tired of trying to find excuses for you, of trying to work out what goes on in your head, of being pathetically grateful for a head slap.

I'll get to the point because you've probably lost interest by now. This is my resignation. Fin.

Tony

NCISNCIS

The letter fell from Gibbs' hand and drifted down to join the others on the floor. Gibbs just stood there at a complete loss. For almost the first time in his life he had no idea what to do or how to feel.

Tony was in Columbus for the weekend, a twenty year anniversary get together with former students. He had been driving his co-workers mad for weeks as his excitement over the re-union grew. Actually, Ducky seemed to have enjoyed listening to Tony's reminiscences and had joined in with several of his own. Abby had smiled indulgently and her happiness, sweet person that she was, had seemed to feed off Tony's. Ziva and McGee had been more irritated but Gibbs could tell that a lot of that was put on as an excuse to tease Tony. McGee was probably already taking notes and planning how to arrange his own twenty year anniversary.

It was Gibbs who had been most obviously irritable about the whole thing but this was unsurprising; in Tony's opinion he had never seemed to grasp the importance of college life and friendships. He sometimes managed to give the impression that the only friendships that counted were those which were formed in foxholes under fire. 'Frivolous' was probably the last word that would ever be used to describe Gibbs and, to him, Tony's endless chatter about jello shots, wet tee shirt contests and football games was trivial and frivolous so he had tuned it out rather than listen and give in to grumbles.

So Tony had gone to bond with his buckeyes and the rest of the team were bracing themselves for his return. Early the next morning Gibbs had got a call from Tony's upstairs neighbour to say that some of her pipes had burst overnight and she was afraid that water might have spilled into Tony's apartment below. Gibbs had been grateful for a call which took away from a day of dreaded paperwork so had headed willingly to Tony's place to do some damage assessment. He hadn't expected to find the 'paperwork' there which had rocked his world.

Gibbs had let himself in with his spare key and looked around for damage. He was relieved to see that the water had missed Tony's piano and the DVD collection but tutted when he saw that it had dripped on to Tony's antique bureau. He sighed over the damage to the wood and automatically began to think how it could be repaired. He pulled the top drawers out to see if their contents had been damaged; one of them seemed to have already swollen a little so he had to pull it hard. It came free with a jerk and the contents flew to the floor. Cursing under his breath, he bent down to retrieve the papers and stopped as he saw that one of them was a letter with his name on it.

It would have been simple enough to have ignored it. Stuffed it back in the drawer. Gone into the kitchen, got some towels and mopped up the water. But who would have done that? As it turned out, not Gibbs. He had read the letter and then, with a horrified fascination, had picked up another ... and another. Letters to him from Tony. Letters of sadness, of anger, of bewilderment ... of farewell.

Gibbs was a realist. He knew that sometimes he was difficult to live with, to work with but he also knew that sometimes he inspired loyalty in those who could see past his gruff exterior to the dedicated person beneath. Part of him had thought that those perceptive people were the 'good' people, committed, like him, to justice and fairness. As a marine he had endured danger and discomfort to serve his country and somehow he thought his agents should endure the discomfort of a 'less than touchy feely' boss for the same reason.

And, unlikely as it might seem, he had thought that Tony was the one who understood that most. Tony who had somehow managed to turn away from the glittering but shallow way of life of his father; Tony, who he suspected could have found easier ways to make a good living but chose instead to put his life on the line day after day; Tony who had been with him the longest and had turned down at least one opportunity to move up the ladder. Surely that Tony,  _his_  Tony, his loyal St Bernard understood how it had to be? And he remembered that there had been times when Tony had stood up to him and objected. He still remembered the raw anger during the Domino affair when Tony had shouted at him in Autopsy. He still remembered Tony's calm insistence that he would carry on seeing EJ in the face of Gibbs' outright disapproval.

As he stood there, looking at the litter of papers on the floor, he also remembered the times when Tony had come to him for comfort and solace. Cowboy steaks over his open fire. Bourbon in the basement. Companionable silences; or at least that what's Gibbs had thought they were and he had taken real pleasure in the thought that talkative Tony could sit quietly and happily with him. Had he got everything wrong?

He remembered each of the incidents in Tony's letters and he now felt ashamed at what he had done but he knew that he hadn't felt that shame at the time. He had thought he was demonstrating his usual strong leadership when he stormed back into his role as supervisor. He had felt embarrassed about the whole Maddie affair: anxious that his team would think he had been sentimental, emotional and aware that he had broken a slew of his own rules so he had simply ignored the whole thing.

Gibbs also thought that perhaps he shouldn't try to crack jokes around DiNozzo. How many times had his attempts at humour fallen flat? He remembered Tony's face when they had retrieved him from the sewers and he had told McGee that, 'too bad, DiNozzo was back and he'd have to give him his desk back'. Or the time when he had been chained to Jeffrey White and Gibbs had made, what he thought, was a mood lightening remark that he could see how much Tony 'had liked the guy he had just shot'. On both occasions Tony had looked stricken but he had never called Gibbs on it. He wondered if there were other letters in the bureau about  _those_  episodes.

Gibbs pulled himself back to the present. He scooped the letters up from the floor and put them back in the drawer. He removed all the drawers and left them on the floor so that they could have a chance to dry out. He looked around to see if there was any other damage and then locked up. He went upstairs to Tony's neighbour both to reassure her that the damage was limited and to check that her leak really had been fixed. All that done, he went home and savagely chopped up wood for his fire.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Come Monday morning, Gibbs still couldn't decide what he should do about the letters. On the plus side, he reasoned, Tony had never delivered any of the resignation letters. On the negative side, his conscience told him, he had felt the need to write them in the first place. With no firm decision made, he decided to follow his gut. If Tony guessed that he had read the letters, they could deal with it then. If he didn't guess, then perhaps Gibbs would just have to try to be 'nicer' to him although that didn't have a great track record of success either. He got himself an extra-large cup of super strength coffee and braced himself for Tony's return.

There was an air of anticipation in the squad room as people waited for Tony to arrive although Tim and Ziva would probably have denied that they were looking forward to hearing about Tony's exploits. Ducky, Abby and Jimmy were less diffident but didn't openly admit to having manufactured excuses for being in the squad room when there were no active cases to report on. None of them had long to wait. The elevator dinged and Tony emerged looking tired but with a happy smile on his face. Gibbs looked up briefly but then looked away, uncertain about how to greet him.

Tony opened his arms wide at the sight of all his co-workers,

"Greetings! Here you all are, gathered to welcome the conquering hero home. Probie, I have so much to tell you, to advance your education. Probette, I have just had a true American experience: if you weren't already an American citizen I would have let you come and make notes, it would have stood you in good stead for your citizenship tests. Abby, I took photos, as requested, of the bowling facilities for you to share with Sister Rosita and the girls. Ducky, Palmer, you will be pleased to know that I did not make any inspections of the excellent medical facilities but I had some  _very_  interesting conversations with one of my fellow students who is now ME in her home town – I didn't realise what coroners got up to in their spare time." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "Boss I..."

"... probably didn't do anything I'd find at all interesting," interrupted Gibbs. He realised immediately that he'd done it again, trying for humour he'd unintentionally pricked the happiness balloon in one fell swoop. Before he could open his mouth to try and fix things, Ducky said philosophically,

"Quite right, Jethro, we shouldn't be gossiping up here at the taxpayers' expense. Come on, Mr Palmer, I fear there are some gruesome gobbets awaiting our attention downstairs. Good to see you back, Anthony. Cheerio everyone. Come along Abigail."

Abby agreed,

"Major Mass Spec is calling for me," she said mournfully, "I'm sooo glad you're back, Tony," as she draped her arms around his neck. Ducky gently disentangled her and pulled her away, "Byeee ... send me those photos."

"They're on their way," promised Tony, then with a look at Gibbs he added, "or rather, they will be at the end of the working day."

Gibbs cleared his throat, "You been home yet, DiNozzo?"

Tony looked a bit defensive,

"Er, no. I stayed overnight with a buddy in Baltimore and drove in this morning. But it was planned, I had my work clothes with me and I'm well rested," the effect was spoiled by a huge yawn, "well, nothing that some caffeine won't sort out", he added.

Gibbs didn't know what to say. This meant that Tony might not know about his neighbour's leak and almost certainly that he did not know about Gibbs' visit. He thought it might be better to tell Tony about the water damage but at that moment his phone rang,

"Yeah, Gibbs. On my way."

The rest of the team looked up expectantly.

"Director wants me in MTAC. DiNozzo, finish these reports". He dumped the paperwork, unfinished over the weekend, on Tony's desk.

"I thought you were going to do them this weekend, Boss," said Tony, "did something more  _appealing_  come up? Er, none of my business, getting on with the reports," he finished after getting a look at Gibbs' face. Gibbs swept away thinking grimly that something indeed had 'come up.' Director Vance was surprised how co-operative Gibbs was during their four hour meeting about some external audit results, agreeing rather distractedly to almost everything he suggested. When Gibbs descended the stairs after the meeting ended it was to find that his team had gone to lunch. He sat down glumly and stared moodily at the neat pile of completed reports sitting on his desk. Was it possible, he wondered, for a pile of papers to look reproachful? He started leafing through the reports but was distracted each time he saw Tony's handwriting because he remembered the other words he had seen in Tony's hand that weekend.

He sighed and put his head in his hands,

"You all right, Boss?" came Tony's concerned voice.

"Why wouldn't I be?" said Gibbs gruffly even as he accepted the cup of coffee and bacon sandwich which was placed on his desk.

"No reason," said Tony, "thought perhaps you'd had a rough time with the Director."

Gibbs was about to make one of his trademark curt replies but thought better of it and just shook his head. He saw Tony's look of concern deepen and he sighed. He didn't know what to say so took refuge in a sip of his coffee and a bite of the sandwich.

"You forgot the sauce," he said and then cursed inwardly at his lack of gratitude. "Thanks," he muttered just as McGee said,

"Sorry, Boss, that was me. I got the sandwich but forgot to tell them how you like it."

"That's OK, Tim, thanks," he said and then thought, “great. I moaned at Tony and thanked Tim."

The afternoon went by slowly. Gibbs decided he was safer saying nothing so retreated into even more silence than usual. The others were tense, noticing that Gibbs seemed barely able to look at Tony although several times he seemed about to say something but then thought better of it. It was barely 5pm when Gibbs dismissed his team for the day,

"All right. Go home all of you."

Tony, Tim and Ziva sighed with relief and Tony yawned. Tim chuckled,

"Your busy weekend catching up with you, Tony?"

"Can't cut the mayonnaise at your age, Tony?" teased Ziva.

Before Tony could leap to his own defence and correct Ziva's idiom, Gibbs intervened,

"DiNozzo's entitled to be tired.  _He's_  worked hard today."

The others looked at each other in astonishment. Tony opened his mouth, probably to say thank you but he was too late. Gibbs had swept past in a swirl of greatcoat and coffee.

Tony shook his head, he wondered if he should pay a visit to Gibbs' basement that evening and work out what was rattling his cage this time. The visit didn't happen. When Tony got home it was to find a note from the building supervisor explaining about the leak and that Martha Goodde, his upstairs neighbour, had gone away for a few days while her apartment dried out and some repairs were made. Tony spent the rest of the evening checking for his own damage and phoning his insurance company. He sat down on his couch when he had finished and promptly fell asleep – it had, after all, been a very busy weekend!

NCISNCIS

By the time Friday arrived, the Major Crimes Response Team was very jumpy. Gibbs had continued in a strange mood all week: silent most of the time and especially reluctant to speak to Tony. He also seemed unable to look Tony in the eye but at other times, Tony would look up from his work to find Gibbs staring intently at him. Gibbs felt he was living on the edge of a cliff, a cliff that he suspected might crumble beneath his feet at any moment. He couldn't understand why Tony hadn't mentioned the water damage but didn't feel able to ask him about it directly.

As the end of the working week approached Tony and Gibbs were left alone in the squad room. Tony seemed to come to a decision and came and stood before Gibbs' desk,

"Boss, have I done something to annoy you? I mean, more than normal. I know I always annoy you but you usually manage to tune it out but something seems to have been off ever since I came in on Monday. I'm sorry if I seemed tired on Monday but I was all right really. Boss, are you OK?"

" _I'm_  fine, DiNozzo. What about you? Are  _you_  all right? Nothing on your mind?"

"Me? I'm fine, Boss. Never been better. Had a great weekend, it was good to meet up with everyone," he leaned forward and said conspiratorially, "don't tell McJunior and Ziva but, it's so relaxing to spend time with people your own age. You know, you 'get' the same things, had the same experiences, the same memories ... it just works. Sorry, Boss, you don't want to know about that. You're sure nothing's wrong? OK, I'll be off then. See you Monday - unless we get called in, of course." Tony backed away from Gibbs' desk as he spoke and then made his way to the elevator.

Gibbs went home shortly afterwards resolving to have a soothing night making something out of wood. He wasn't sure what, but he needed a time of reflection sanding something rough into silky smooth perfection. Perhaps it would do the same with his gut.

Three hours later Gibbs was beginning to relax. He had settled for making a bench for the garden. What DiNozzo would call 'bench, basement and bourbon'. He had cut the seat out and was now sanding it down, finding comfort in the rhythmic strokes and hoping that the physical effort would tire him out so he could finally get a good night's sleep. His move towards contentment was interrupted when he heard his front door opening and someone coming in. He looked up with a frown of annoyance as someone came down the stairs and then tried to clear his expression when he saw his visitor was Tony carrying a pizza and some beer.

"Hey, Boss. What you making?"

"Bench," said Gibbs, wondering how to deal with being alone with Tony.

"I found out tonight why you've been mad at me all week," said Tony, "thought I'd come round and apologise. Bought your favourite pizza and that beer you like."

Gibbs froze. He took a sip of his bourbon. "What are  _you_  apologising for, DiNozzo?"

Tony didn't seem to notice the slightly odd emphasis in Gibbs' words and said, as he opened the pizza box and handed it to Gibbs,

"I saw Martha this evening."

"Martha?" queried Gibbs.

"Martha Goodde. She has the apartment above mine. She's been away for a few days."

"Aahh," said Gibbs.

"Boss, you should have said something. I feel awful."

" _You_  feel awful?" said Gibbs.

Again, Tony didn't seem to notice the emphasis on 'you'.

"Martha told me that she called you last weekend and that you came over to the apartment and checked for damage. Gibbs, you must have thought I was really ungrateful but honestly, I didn't know. I got back to a message from the super and I assumed ... and I know that's against the rules – I assumed he'd done the sorting out and tidying."

Gibbs chewed on a piece of pizza and deliberately took a long time over it as he waited for the other shoe to drop. Tony continued,

"It was nice of you to bother, Boss. Giving up your weekend like that. And then I sniped at you for not having got the reports done".

"It was no problem, Tony. Ms Goodde sounded real panicky on the phone, it was the least I could do."

"Still, you must have thought I was really ungrateful, not even mentioning it".

"Nope," said Gibbs. "How's the desk thingy?"

"The bureau? Not too bad. It was already a bit bashed up. It was Nonno DiNozzo's, you know. He did all his business from that desk but he always had sweets stashed there for when the grandchildren came visiting". Tony sighed happily and took a bite out of his pizza.

"Are your papers OK?" continued Gibbs.

"Some of them are a bit mussed up but nothing major."

Gibbs nodded. He looked at Tony who seemed genuinely to have come just because he wanted to thank Gibbs and not because he wanted to lay into him for reading his letters. As he watched, however, a puzzled look arrived on Tony's face.

"So, if you weren't mad about coming over to my place, what's been bugging you all week? Honestly, Boss, I know you don't approve of college reunions but, unlikely as it seems, we behaved like the responsible adults we've accidentally become. And you know, what I do in my free time is my business."

Gibbs stared at him and something in that look must have set alarms going in Tony's mind.

"Sorry, Boss. I don't why I said that but I have to say, you've really got me spooked here. Perhaps I should go. Thanks again, Boss. I'll see you Monday. Good luck with that bench, looks nice. Bye."

And with that he was gone, jogging up the stairs leaving Gibbs with a congealing pizza and a beer going flat. Gibbs waited till he heard the front door close and then threw the beer bottle at his new bench and then swore as the alcohol stained the wood.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Tony's visit helped Gibbs a bit. He thought that Tony probably didn't realise that he might have seen the letters let alone read them and he decided that he should probably try to forget about them. Tony hadn't actually resigned so he guessed that he had come to terms with the situations. It would do no good to rake over the past but Gibbs resolved to make sure that no new letters got written.

The situation between Gibbs and Tony improved over the days that followed. Gibbs began to relax a bit and not to second guess everything he did or said to DiNozzo. Then the team caught one case after another and were so busy that there was no time for Gibbs to think, he was completely driven by the need to 'get the dirt bags' and so reverted to unreasonable demands, impossibly long hours and short rations. For some reason, which the other NCIS teams couldn't quite understand, the MCRT seemed to lap it up and DiNozzo, in particular, went round with a happy smile on his face.

When it was all over, however, and Gibbs and his team were able to re-acquaint themselves with their homes, Gibbs felt all his doubts return. Had he been too hard on Tony, too unreasonable, had he made jokes which turned out  _not_  to be jokes? He couldn't remember seeing any stricken looks on Tony's face. In fact as far as he could remember, DiNozzo seemed to have been unbearably happy all the time. Did that mean that he was covering something up? Was he hiding something, putting his happy shiny face on because that was what was expected of him? Gibbs didn't sleep that night although he was exhausted.

Tony bounced into the squad room the next morning with a cheerful smile on his face and a Frank Sinatra tune on his lips. He was sure that, after the last few days of head slaps and criticism, the Boss was back to normal. Perhaps, he thought, there had been some anniversary connected with Shannon and Kelly that had tormented Gibbs; he decided to make a note of the dates in his organiser so he could be ready with sympathy and beer next year. All that hopefulness faded when he looked across to a haggard Gibbs who was sitting at his desk and staring intently at him.

"What you looking so happy for, DiNozzo?" barked Gibbs. Part of Gibbs really wanted to know if Tony was happy or hiding behind one of his masks. Tony wasn't to know that it was almost a genuine question and so he did what Gibbs hated and deflected,

"Nothing at all, Gibbs. Nothing to be happy about here," and he sat down at his desk and began to work intently. Gibbs sighed, somehow he had mis-stepped again.

A morning spent in paperwork did not improve anyone's mood so a call to a possible break in at a navy depot was a welcome relief. Gibbs drove and Tony opted to sit in the back of the truck, not wanting to be anywhere near the team leader at the moment. Ziva and McGee wisely decided not to comment although neither could ever remember Tony taking the hated back seat. Being at a crime scene seemed to settle Gibbs' gut and he swung smoothly into action when he had screeched the truck to a halt.

"Er, Boss," said McGee, "Tony got me to do a look up of false alarms from this depot. There have been three in the last month."

"OK," said Gibbs, "chances are this is another false alarm ..."

"... but someone might be deliberately setting off the alarm to lull us into a false sense of security," supplied Ziva, "like the boy who cried possum too often."

Gibbs nodded, "OK, we'll take it seriously. DiNozzo, have you got anything you want to contribute?"

"Not really, Boss. Although I would like to point out to Agent David that it's wolf, not possum. I think it's an Italian story. Taking the fire-escape, Boss." He grinned one of his deceptive shiny grins and was gone.

Ziva went round the back while Gibbs and McGee went to the front. They had all the security codes to the doors and quickly entered the building. Ziva, Gibbs and McGee met up in the huge storage space.

"Nothing seems amiss," said Ziva.

"Guess it was another false alarm," said McGee, "Base Security really need to look into their wiring."

"DiNozzo, report," said Gibbs into his earwig.

"Nothing here, Boss. Not even any rats. On my way down," came Tony's voice.

They heard him running down the steps towards them. He paused at one of the landings and leaned over,

"Why has the Navy got an empty warehouse anyway? Especially one that's falling to pieces." He pushed himself off the railing and his words proved to be prophetic. The railing fell apart and Tony fell with it. His team mates rushed to the spot where he lay with his eyes closed.

"Call an ambulance, McGee," ordered Gibbs.

"Ow," moaned Tony, "this ground is hard. I'm all right, Boss, no need for 911," and he tried to lever himself up.

"Tony, your head is bleeding," said Ziva, "you might have a concussion. You should stay where you are".

"I only fell a few feet," argued Tony, "I'll be fine." He looked at Gibbs and almost groaned when he saw something which, on anyone else's face, would have been a look of guilt. He had never seen Gibbs look guilty so he wasn't sure if his eyes were deceiving him or not. Perhaps he did have a concussion after all.

"DiNozzo, do what you're told," ordered Gibbs, "you're getting checked out".

The ambulance arrived shortly afterwards and whisked Tony off to hospital. The rest of the team stayed behind to secure the building and make sure they hadn't missed anything.

"You two go back to the Navy Yard. Drop me off at Walter Reed on the way. I'll check up on DiNozzo. You can go home afterwards".

By the time Gibbs got to the hospital, Ducky was already there.

"Ah, Jethro. I know you weren't expecting me but once Abigail found out about Anthony's mishap she insisted one of us come to be with him. I assumed you might prefer to have my calming presence rather than hers ...?"

"Might need you to translate, Duck," nodded Gibbs ruefully.

"Indeed," chuckled Ducky, "but in this case I don't think that will be necessary. Our boy had a lucky escape. Bruises, yes; a cut to the forehead, yes but no concussion and no broken bones. He might be a bit stiff tomorrow but he'll bounce back before you know it."

"He has to do a lot of that," muttered Gibbs.

"Why, yes, I suppose he does," said Ducky in a rather puzzled tone. "Anyway, we should be able to go and see him. I think they've finished patching him up."

"Hey, Boss, Duckman," cried Tony, his face lighting up when he saw them come into his cubicle, "that parachute training came in handy. I rolled as I landed ... or is it I landed as I rolled? Rollily, landily, topsily turvily ..."

"They had, of course, given him some pain killers before I arrived," said Ducky apologetically, "but they should be wearing off soon."

"How you feeling, Tony?" asked Gibbs.

"My phone broke," said Tony sadly.

"Well, they tend to when 250 pounds of weight fall on them," said Gibbs practically and then winced when Tony's face crumpled.

"I don't weigh 250 pounds. Do I weigh 250 pounds, Ducky? Is Boss calling me bubble-butt again? 'Cos, that's mean."

"Of course not, Anthony," said Ducky soothingly, "why don't you lie back and try to get some sleep?" As Tony grumpily complied, Ducky turned to Gibbs and said in a low voice, "Really, Jethro, you know what Anthony's like when he's had painkillers. You really should know better. Why, Jethro, what's the matter?"

Gibbs didn't quite know what his face looked like to have caused Ducky such alarm but he hoped it didn't reflect too much of his anguish. He hated seeing any of his team hurt and now, when Tony was already in pain, he had made it worse by bringing back bad memories for him.

"Sorry, Duck. I'll go and grab some coffee. Let me know when DiNozzo's ready to go", and he backed out of the cubicle leaving Ducky to sit vigil with Tony.

A couple of hours later, Tony had shaken off the effects of the drugs and was ready to be released. Ducky, the only one with a car, was going to drive everyone home.

"You sure you're going to be all right on your own, DiNozzo?" asked Gibbs.

"I'll be fine, Boss. No concussion, no breaks. I'm looking forward to lying on my couch watching Kate swim by."

"I'm sorry, Tony," said Gibbs.

Tony and Ducky stared at him in disbelief. Tony wondered whether the painkillers hadn't worn off after all.

"Boss, did you just say 'sorry'?" he asked.

"Yes."

"What for?"

"That you got hurt," replied Gibbs.

"Well, that's nice of you, Boss but I don't think you need to say 'sorry' for it," said Tony

"I let you go up the fire-escape," said Gibbs.

"I always do the fire-escape. My knees don't mind the stairs and I don't mind the heights."

"Still," said Gibbs, somehow trying to take the blame for something.

"Boss, did you saw through that railing?"

"No."

"Did you know I was going to lean on it?"

"No."

"Then leave it. It's not your fault".

"But," tried Gibbs again.

"Can we go home," said Tony plaintively, "I don't mean to be rude, but you're freaking me out here, Boss."

NCISNCIS

Tony was back at work the next day, moving a bit stiffly but enjoying telling anyone who would listen about his death defying fall. He also seemed to have completely forgotten about Gibbs's strange behaviour at the hospital. Gibbs wasn't usually grateful for Tony's odd reactions to painkillers but as they seemed to have given him amnesia this time, he was ready to make an exception. He also hoped that Tony hadn't written another undelivered resignation letter. Ducky, of course, had not taken any painkillers so had not forgotten but Gibbs dealt with that by simply not going down to Autopsy for a while.

Tony was on desk duty for a few days while he fully recovered and Gibbs found himself grateful for that too. He realised that he was anxious about working with Tony in the field as he wasn't sure whether he'd be tempted to mollycoddle him or, in reaction, be too severe with him. No, it would be good for Tony to be safe in the office for a while and, hopefully, by the time he recovered Gibbs would be back on an even keel. So, when the call came in that afternoon about a robbery at an admiral's house, Gibbs went out almost cheerfully.

At home in his basement that night, Gibbs really thought everything might be coming together. Ziva and McGee had worked well together and Tony had done some useful work on the case back at the office. They had some good leads and would resume the investigation the next day. Gibbs felt settled enough to go back to the bench he was making and see if the alcohol stain could be sanded out. He poured himself a bourbon, picked up his sanding paper and even began to whistle as he worked. Then he heard the door upstairs bang and slightly halting steps make their way down to the basement.

It was Tony, but he wasn't carrying any beer or pizza and he didn't look apologetic this time.

"Hey," said Gibbs.

"When were you going to tell me, Boss? Or is it another of your secrets?"

Gibbs froze, it sounded as if Tony had realised what he had done but before he could say anything, Tony swept on.

"I suppose I shouldn't be surprised. I mean, it's none of our business really, is it? Or were you going to spring it on us one day as if we already knew?"

Gibbs was now baffled. This didn't sound like Tony finding out that Gibbs had read the letters. He began to bristle at Tony's tone.

"What you talking about, DiNozzo?" he growled.

"I was sitting at my desk this afternoon, doing my background search on Petty Officer Flynn when Delores Bromstead dropped by and congratulated me".

"On what? Not breaking your neck?" asked Gibbs.

"That does seem the most likely option, doesn't it, Gibbs? After all, I couldn't be congratulated on doing something well, could I? Not me, the class clown, the village idiot?"

"What you going on about, DiNozzo?" asked Gibbs irritably.

"The results of the external audit. Which Director Vance shared with team leaders a few weeks ago, which he suggested would be good to share with team members, which you clearly haven't."

"So what?" said Gibbs, honestly mystified. The audit had been of crime scene procedures, sketches, evidence recording, reports, interviews and so on. His team, as he had expected, had done well and he hadn't seen any reason to tell them so.

"You didn't think it was worth McGee knowing that while his computer skills were off the scale, his crime scene photos only rated 80% and his sketches 75%?"

"I was going to deal with that," protested Gibbs.

"Or that Ziva's evidence handling was not up to the required standard 10% of the time?"

"I'm going to talk to her about that as well. What does it matter to you?"

"I'm your Senior Field Agent, Gibbs! When you're not around, I give out the assignments. Don't you think it would be helpful for me to know where team members aren't performing strongly so I can take that into account? That I might be able to offer them some advice?" He stopped, looking incredulously at Gibbs' blank expression. "No, it didn't occur to you, did it? Because you forget that I'm senior to them, that other supervisors actually work with their Senior Field Agents to run the team".

"You do what I tell you to do, Tony!" said Gibbs hotly, hating to be told how to run his team.

"Yes, I do, Gibbs. And I do it well, very well. I guess you weren't going to tell me either that I scored the highest marks in the audit? That's why Delores congratulated me – she called me the best agent in NCIS."

"You know that I rely on you, DiNozzo," said Gibbs a bit stiffly, "wouldn't keep you around if I didn't."

"It's hard to tell sometimes, Boss," said Tony wearily, "would it kill you to say that in front of the others sometimes?"

"Would it help, Tony?" asked Gibbs.

"Well, I don't think it would hurt for Ziva and McGee to know that I outscored them on everything. Well, except for computer thingies and, as I don't want to go to prison, I'm happy for McGee to be top in that one".

"It's my job to manage the team, DiNozzo. I don't need fancy auditors to tell me what my team can do."

"So the fact that some of your scores weren't as high as mine has nothing to do with it?" asked Tony bitterly.

"No, it's not my job now do all that work now," said Gibbs defensively, "I need to know  _how_  to do it, I don't have to  _do_  it."

"And you didn't even think,  _consider_ , telling me about the results? I can see you might have thought I'd be unbearable about it, but Gibbs, don't you think it might have helped me to know McGee and Ziva's results. I understand you not telling me yours, but Gibbs ..." he trailed off, despondently.

Gibbs swallowed down his anger and tried to see things from Tony's point of view. He dumped some nails out of a jelly jar and held the bottle of bourbon over it.

"Still on painkillers, or can you have this?" he asked.

"Stopped taking them. Had some  _really_  weird dreams after the last lot."

Gibbs poured him a drink and handed it to him.

"Tony, you're a good agent. One of the best I've worked with. Perhaps I should make that clearer to the others; recognise that you've got a part to play with training them." He clinked his glass against Tony's.

Tony relaxed. He seemed to know that was as close to an apology as he would get.

"You know, Boss, sometimes you can carry the functional mute thing too far".

Gibbs chuckled and smiled at Tony for what seemed the first time in weeks.

"Just don't go home and write out another resignation letter, Tony!"

Tony froze and Gibbs realised he'd let the secret out. The colour drained from Tony's face and then flooded back, he tried to laugh it off,

"Me ... resign? Why ..." and then he paused and Gibbs saw his epiphany moment, "so that's what this has all been about. You read my letters!"

"I didn't mean to," said Gibbs.

"So, they just sort of jumped up and dangled in front of your face and shouted, 'read me, read me?" said Tony sarcastically.

"No," said Gibbs impatiently.

"So what happened then? Explain."

"Hey, they were addressed to me," retorted Gibbs.

"Oh, of course, so that makes it all right that you rummaged through my desk? Did you find anything else you found interesting, Special Agent Gibbs?"

"Don't flatter yourself, DiNozzo!" said Gibbs hotly. Then he remembered that perhaps he wasn't completely in the right about this. He tried to calm down and said more quietly, "I went to your apartment and saw that the desk had been under the leak. I pulled the drawers out to see if the water had got through. One of them had stuck, as I pulled it, it came free and dumped the contents on the floor. Some of them fell with my name facing upwards and ... I picked one up and started to read it before I realised what I was doing."

"So you just read  _one_  letter?" asked Tony.

"No, three."

"So you sort of accidentally read  _three_  letters?"

"Yes."

"You read three letters before you realised what you were doing?" Tony continued.

"Yes, I'm not proud of it, Tony. But if you didn't want me to read them why did you leave them lying around?"

"They weren't lying around. They were in a drawer in my desk in my locked apartment!" shouted Tony, "where they should have been safe!"

"Hey, you gave me the key," said Gibbs defensively.

"Oh, of course, that makes it all right then, doesn't it? It's my fault, I didn't realise I'd put a label on the key fob to say, 'please come in and have a good look round, feel free to have a good rummage ..."

"Tony ...," Gibbs tried to interrupt but Tony rushed on. He stood up and made his way to the stairs,

"Gibbs, your door is always open. I'm just going to run upstairs and have a look through all your drawers. I'm sure you won't mind, after all, YOUR LIFE IS AN OPEN BOOK, ISN'T IT? You haven't got any secrets."

Gibbs didn't think he had ever seen Tony so angry. He raised his hands palm outwards in a pacifying gesture,

"Tony, calm down. Look, I'm not proud of what I did. You're right, I shouldn't have read the letters, I'm sorry."

To Gibbs' relief, Tony did seem to calm down a bit, he moved away from the stairs and sat down once again. He said with a shaky laugh,

"I suppose I can't blame you. I'm the nosiest person I know. I bet Kate's laughing now, she'd call this karma". He took a sip of his bourbon, "Sorry, Boss. I shouldn't have shouted at you."

"Let's call it quits, Tony," said Gibbs. They sat in silence for a few moments.

"Is that why you've been so off with me the last few weeks?" asked Tony eventually, "I'm guessing the letters weren't very ... er ... polite. I haven't looked at them for a while."

"How many are there?" asked Gibbs, and then as he saw Tony about to answer, he changed his mind, "no, don't tell me. I don't think I want to know."

"I don't understand why they threw you so much," said Tony, "were you mad at me for what I said?"

"No," said Gibbs, "I was mad at myself."

"Why?"

"Not sure why. Mad that I'd done those things which made you angry enough to quit. Sad that you seemed so downhearted when you wrote them. Embarrassed."

"Embarrassed?" said Tony.

"I'd always prided myself in knowing what was going on in that head of yours. I thought I could work out what you were thinking and I thought you always knew what  _I_ was thinking; that you'd know how much I depend on you, what a high opinion I've got of you. I thought we understood one another and then I read those letters and realised that you hadn't said anything about the problems. I didn't know what to do or say around you."

"Which letters did you read?" asked Tony in a gentler tone of voice.

"When I called you 'bubble-butt'", said Gibbs.

"Well, sometimes your jokes do miss the mark a bit, Gibbs. You should really steer clear of trying to be funny. I'm not sure why that got to me so much, it didn't help that McSlim was disappearing before my eyes. And sometimes, Gibbs you get at me a bit relentlessly. I guess I might have said something to you but you had your Dad with you. I could tell you had other things on your mind so I just left it. It was one of those times when just writing the letter helped get it out of my system. What were the other ones?"

"When I came back from Mexico and after you pulled Maddie and me out of the drink."

Tony winced, "you're not known for your people skills, Gibbs. I came really close to giving in both of those letters. I knew they weren't things I could talk to you about; you've always kept your family close to your vest. You would have thought I was intruding. Can you honestly imagine us having had a heart to heart about either of those episodes?"

Gibbs shook his head. He remembered the turmoil he had still been in when he got back from Mexico; the wounds of his loss fresh once more and surrounded by people who felt a bit like cardboard cut outs to him, insubstantial and faint. It was only as time went by that his memories of his co-workers had returned and begun to ease the pain of his tragic loss. A discussion with DiNozzo would not have gone well at that time. And then, Maddie's reappearance in his life had brought back precious memories, talking with Tony about his rescue would have meant sharing those memories and he knew he would have backed away from doing so. He began to suspect that Tony knew him far better than he had realised and he was surprised to find that a comforting thought. At one time he would have felt defensive about someone knowing him so well but now he thought it might be a good thing.

"So why didn't you quit those times?" he asked.

"The first time because I was glad you were back from Mexico: I'd missed the surly bastard persona. And the second time because I was so relieved you were still alive. I had nightmares for weeks that I hadn't got to you in time. It was all simple in the end, Boss, I was really mad at you but I cared, so I stayed."

"Thank you," said Gibbs and hoped that Tony realised that he was saying it for so many times he had failed to say it in the past.

They continued in silence for a little while then Tony rose to go,

"Boss, are we good now? Will you still be weird with me?"

"I don't know," said Gibbs honestly, "I can't promise I won't make the same mistakes again."

"I know that," said Tony, "but can you get past the letters and just go back to running on your gut again, stop overthinking everything?"

"I'll try," said Gibbs, "it might take a while".

"'Cos, really, Boss, I can't cope with you apologising because a railing collapsed under me."

"I didn't think you remembered that," said Gibbs with a grimace.

"I'd thought it was an hallucination until you mentioned 'bubble-butt' a few minutes ago, I'd tried to forget it."

"Go home, get some rest," said Gibbs, clapping him on the shoulder, "tomorrow's another day. Let me know if that bureau of yours needs fixing."

"If you don't mind," said Tony, "I don't think we'll mention that desk again. Night, Boss."

Gibbs took a fortifying gulp of bourbon and got back to the bench. He felt happy for the first time in weeks. He knew there might be some bumps in the road ahead but he thought they would weather them. A few hours later he went upstairs and slept soundly on his couch.

The next morning he got up and found a letter had been put through his door.

Boss,

I think this may be the resignation letter you're  _meant_  to see!

I'm not sure you will be able to forget about the letters; about all the ways we seem to have managed to hurt each other. I don't think I can risk that happening. 'It' worked in the past because we seemed to understand one another – I'm not sure we'll feel that way in the future. If it was just the two of us then perhaps we could work it out but it's not fair on Ziva and Tim to be caught up in our machinery. The job's too dangerous, and too important, to risk misunderstandings.

So, Jethro. I'm letting you off the hook. Be honest. If you think we can get back to how it was, I'll stay but if you don't, then file this as my resignation.

Semper Fi

Tony

Gibbs stood, holding the letter in his hands and wondered what to do.

 


End file.
